


Growing Older

by Dark_and_night



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23330953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_and_night/pseuds/Dark_and_night
Summary: Brahms deals with the fact that he's growing older.
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Reader, Brahms Heelshire/You
Kudos: 81





	Growing Older

“Brahms?” You called, walking through the house. It was about bedtime, and you wanted to invite Brahms to shower with you. (It was the easiest way to get him to shower.) The problem was, you had no idea where the tall man was. 

Ever since he had left the wall, he spent most of his time in the library reading or trying out new hobbies that you had introduced him to. Brahms was a very productive man, though you never would have guessed that the first time you had met him officially. Part of you wondered if he was trying to make up for lost time, but you tried not to think about that. Brahms was living a good life with you now, and that’s what mattered.

“Brahms?” You called again, walking through the hall. You frowned, getting worried. You were about two minutes away from checking the wall, when you heard a noise from Brahms’ childhood room.

You walked to his room, following the sound. It was soft, but it was the sound of a violin. 

Peeking into his old room, you saw Brahms.

He was standing at his full height, holding his old violin that was much to small for him now. His elbows were high, the bow held effortlessly in his slender fingers. His chin was holding the violin in place, his other hand making chords as he pulled the bow over the strings. The playing was almost perfect-but it sounded as if his fingers were too large for the small violin-he was playing chords just a bit wrong as he held down strings he wasn’t meant to hold down.

Brahms sighed in frustration as he realized it was fruitless-the violin was made for a child, he couldn’t play it properly. 

He set the violin down, sitting on his old bed and putting his face in his hands. A deep, shuddering breath came from him. His shoulders jerked up and down, and you realized that he was crying. 

You took a step forward, before hesitating. Sometimes, crying alone was a good thing. The crying person wouldn’t have to explain why they feel what they feel-crying alone meant no explanations had to be given. And Brahms did enjoy being alone from time to time. 

Turning, you were about to leave when Brahms’ head snapped up, and he looked at you. He raised his mask, wiping his eyes before putting the mask back in place. 

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. “I thought I’d give you some space.”

Brahms shook his head, holding out a hand to you. You took it, and he pulled you into his lap, hugging you tightly to his chest. He gently rocked back and forth, sniffing. In the eyes of his mask you could see that he was crying again. You ran your hands up and down his back and arms, remaining silent to give him the chance to speak if he wanted to.

“When did I get older?” He whispered.

You smiled sadly, breathing out your nose. “I couldn’t tell you. It felt like I woke up one morning, and suddenly I was supposed to be an adult.”

He nodded. “That’s exactly what happened.”

Hugging him again, you gently cupped the back of his neck, pulling his head to the crook of your neck. “It was worse for you than most.”

“I don’t remember getting bigger, getting older. My voice changing, my body getting hair.” Brahms said softly. “I don’t remember outgrowing my favorite things. One day I was a child, then a secret, and then I met you.”

“Yeah?” You pressed.

Brahms nodded. “And then I had to be a man, so I could be yours.”

“Oh, Brahmsy…” You kissed the top of his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I know it was for the best.” He said softly. “I know I was supposed to be an adult a long time ago, but it’s so wrong, seeing my old things and wanting to use them, but I just got too big.”

“It’s okay to miss things.” You said. “And, there’s always the chance you could find new things to love. Like, when you try new things, I’m always so proud of you for that, Brahmsy. You’re very talented, because you always try so hard at everything you do. And in this case, you’re trying very hard to adjust to being a man.”

“I just-.” Brahms sighed. “I wish I had gotten to grow up slowly, like everyone else gets to.”

You paused, looking at him. “Well, even grown-ups can be spoiled sometimes. Feel nostalgic.”

“That’s allowed?” Brahms asked.

“Of course it is.” You smiled. “You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling, Brahms. You won’t get in trouble for feeling things.” You stood, taking his hands. “Come with me, okay?”

Brahms nodded obediently, and you gently pulled him to the room the two of you shared. You led him to bed, tucking him in nice and tight, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Brahms closed his eyes as you ran your hands through his hair.

“Goodnight, Brahmsy.” You whispered, still sitting on top of the covers. You paused to recall an old song from the movie Dumbo. You breathed out slowly, doing your best to sing. “Baby mine, don’t you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes.”

Brahms curled up against you, sniffing softly. 

“Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine.”

He wrapped his arms around you, and you continued petting his hair.

“Little one, when you play, don’t you mind what they say. Let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine.”

Brahms continued crying softly as you hummed out the rest of the song, running your hands over him, wanting to comfort him as he began to fall asleep crying.

“From your head to your toes, you’re so sweet, goodness knows.”

His body stilled as sleep overtook him.

“You are so precious to me, cute as can be, baby of mine.”

You kissed his mask, continuing to pet his hair. “I love you Brahmsy.”


End file.
